Page 62 of Betrothed To Love

“Fuck,” I moan as I bust. My hand drops from her neck and both hands grip her ass as I fill her.

“Shit, baby,” she moans before dropping her head into my chest. “I love rule number two.”

After I catch my damn breath, I utter, “And I love you.”

NINETEEN

Duke: Tuesday, October 13th at 6pm

Me: In the middle of the week?

Duke: Yes. Tuesdays and Thursdays have the highest viewership for political debates.

Me: It’s local TV

Duke: That doesn’t change the stats. We’ve got two weeks to plan.

Me: I’ll have Kenya rearrange my calendar and block it. I won’t have any hearings after two.

Duke: If you can take the day off, that’s better.

Me: I’ll let you know.

The moment I place my cell into the drink holder on my chair, Alex is all over me.

“Was that tight pants because you looked so serious as you texted?” she asks.

“Yes. The debate has been scheduled.”

“He still wants to debate you? Seriously?”

“Yes. I don’t know why. I’m up in the polls and have the backing of the D.A. and the mayor,” I say while shaking my head. “Richardson just won’t give up.”

“He should.”

“He definitely should,” I say, then sip my strawberry margarita.

It’s FNF and we all decided not to miss this one. The last one was with Quintus before our dinner and that was over a month ago. I got here about an hour ago. Alex beat me here for once but we are waiting on Kyrah. We’re always waiting on her habitually late ass.

“The food’s here. I’m going down to let them in,” Giselle calls out from the door.

“You need help?” I ask.

“No. I’m just leading them up here to set up.”

“Taco Express?” Alex guesses. The theme and décor scream Cinco de Mayo even though it’s the end of September.

“No. That new place in the mountain, Abuelito's,” Giselle says before walking out.

“That’s exactly why I don’t object to her hosting FNF. I don’t have the bandwidth, much less creative juices, to come up with these different themes,” Alex says.

“Hell, me either. She can forever be the host. Besides, she makes the best damn drinks to match her themes. I love it and love not hosting even more.” I take another sip of my drink and Alex grabs my free hand.

Lifting it, she says, “This really looks like Ma’s ring. That man is a keeper.”

“My husband,” I say, then smile. The ring, his word, and our dinner sealed the deal. Our marriage is real and I love him. “Don’t I know it. I fight tears every time I look at this ring. You know how devastated I was when Ma’s got lost.”

“I do,” she says while still examining my beautiful ring.